Seven Deadly Sin Book Novels & Stories

"Sins?" "Yeah. You haven't realized yet? The daemons who escaped tartarus are the embodiments of pride, greed, sloth, lust, wrath, gluttony, and envy,” he answered as he took his jacket. “The seven deadly sins," he continued as he shut the door behind him.

And he was addicted to his little girl’s tight pussy. This was only the first story in the book of our sins. There were ninety-nine more ways to damn ourselves still waiting. And I could not wait to fall even deeper.

I slid my fingers down, slicking them in my own wetness, and began to slowly caress my cl*t right in front of his eyes. "I'm so fucking hot for you, Father," I groaned, arching my back and shuddering as my thumb circled my cl*t. "And I'm all yours. I'm your little sinner, and this p*ssy is the altar you need to worship today. Come on, Father. Give in to the temptation. Put your holy tongue right here and clean me up." He let out a tortured breath, his knees visibly trembling. He looked trapped between heaven and hell, his eyes pinned to my fingers sliding over my soaking cl*t.

I stood three steps behind Mistress Hana and held the lacquer box and was invisible. He walked onto the central platform. Soul Sight tore through my chest like a blade. Not a gentle ignition. Not the tentative warmth described in the old texts I had read in the pleasure house library, the romantic accounts of soulbound recognition that made it sound like sunlight and gradual warmth. This was violent. The kind of thing that happens to a body that has had no preparation and no framework and no warning — a detonation in the center of my sternum, gold light flooding my peripheral vision, threads erupting from the cavity behind my ribs and running with absolute specificity across the ceremony hal

Girls who came back broken or never at all "They say he's a monster," Margaret continues, her eyes wild with terror. "A devil with the face of an angel. Dante Salvatore. He's mafia, Celeste. He kills people. And Mother Superior is sending me to him like I'm some kind of—" Her voice breaks into a sob. I pull her into my arms, feeling her whole body shake against mine. This is wrong. All of it is wrong. Sacred Mercy is supposed to be a sanctuary, not a marketplace.

Arthur's POV They call me a man with a heart of stone, a soul stained black by the world I command. I have never known pity. I have never understood the concept of mercy. To me, people are either assets or obstacles, and I have spent my life removing the latter. But fate is a twisted poet, and it chose a Tuesday night to test the limits of my coldness.

"That is a most serious sin. Do you know what Jesus said about those who commit this sin?" "Um, no, Father." "Jesus said unto them: 'those that say that they are unwilling to read my words, they must be inspected for sins by my priests.'" "Oh," Heather said, trying to remember this passage from her many readings of the Good Book. "I don't remember that, Father, sorry. Where is it?" "It's in a special book, one for priests only," He said quickly. "Now, are you willing to obey the words of Jesus and be forgiven?"

he said in a low, dangerous voice, “then we are completely fucked.” The altar in the center of the chamber pulsed brighter. New words burned themselves into the stone floor in glowing crimson letters, forming the first demand: “First Offering: The Altar of Seed. Produce your lust upon the altar. Cum. Squirt. Offer your pleasure. Only then will the next door open.” The voice returned, calm and merciless, as if it had been waiting for their denial. “Refuse… and suffer the consequences.” Tyler snapped again. “Fuck you!” he shouted at the ceiling. “I’m not jerking off on some demonic rock for your entertainment!”

Instead, he leaned forward, closing the small distance between our faces until his hot breath fell against my trembling lips. ‘’I fucking love you, Lyric.’’ My heart leaped in my chest—a violent, traitorous thud that made my breath hitch instantly. For a fraction of a second, my soul wanted to soar. But I couldn't even be happy about his confession. I couldn't celebrate it. I couldn't wrap my head around it. He was Kade Mireno. The biggest, most lethal crime lord in New York City. He was the ghost my precinct had been hunting for years.

It was sexy enough to drop me to my knees right there on the cold floor. “I don’t understand,” I whispered, forcing a shaky smile that felt paper-thin. He stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body in the chill of the basement. “Okay.” One single nod. His eyes never left mine. “Then tell me why you’ve been staring at Daddy like you want him to fuck you.” My stomach twisted hard at the word ‘Daddy’. It hit exactly like those filthy books I read in secret—the ones where a girl gets ruined by an older man and moans the word like a prayer while he fucks her senseless. Sweet and sick but perfect.